


Hope

by dolce_piccante



Series: Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, One Year Later, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolce_piccante/pseuds/dolce_piccante
Summary: A latenight chat during a trying time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I planned on writing a short one-off in the Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose universe because the Cubs won the World Series (!), the story is set in the fall, and because Thanksgiving played a big part in the original. It was meant to be a tiny peek into their continued life. However, due to recent events in the United States, that plan took a turn towards different subject matter that was also discussed in the original work. 
> 
> What was meant to be a joke has sadly (and scarily) turned to reality. If you have been keeping up with politics, you will understand what I mean. If you are not interested in what is going on in the US at the moment, this one-off might not be for you. I know some will probably say this fan fic update does nothing for the good of humanity, it's insensitive to post on such a serious subject, etc. Believe me, I am thinking all the same things, and I have no delusion that this little bit of fic will do anything to ease the pain and stress of so many people.
> 
> I don’t want to get into my thoughts about the election because I wrote this months ago as a birthday gift to Jess, who is an amazing person and deserves nothing but happiness. I also wrote this to, hopefully, be a small distraction to some readers who might be feeling hopeless or lost. You are not alone.
> 
> I’ll be at the NYC march tomorrow, so maybe I’ll see some of you there. I hope so. Keep reading, keep thinking, just keep trying. I know it is exhausting already and frustrating and heartbreaking (and I know this is not a new feeling to many people around the world). I just want you to know you are not alone in any of this.
> 
> Thank you to E, L, Boo, A, and J for looking over this for me <3 I know nothing about how football negotiations go so this is super fictional. None of this is real, none of it happened, this is all fiction--which I wish I could say about our current state, but ANYWAY...I hope you enjoy xx

[Track: Radiohead - Let Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUea0h4DZTs)

Rhythmic humming thumped into Harry’s subconscious. He arched his back and folded his arms behind his head. Without opening his eyes, he could imagine Louis in the living room, dutifully bent over his sewing machine and pedaling away. Louis had sewing machines in both of their homes. The machine in Harry’s Seattle condo was smaller and quieter. It was more for quick fixes rather than full projects. The thrumming of Louis’ regular sewing machine was nothing new, but his gasped, wet breaths in the distance were. 

He rolled onto his side and squinted at the alarm clock. Nearly four in the morning. When inspiration (or a looming deadline) struck, Louis sewed at all hours of the night, but he seemed so tired when they went to bed that evening. Late night sewing didn’t make sense.

He swung his feet to the floor and took one of Louis’ t-shirts off a pile of folded laundry in a basket beside the bed. He shrugged it on as he walked out of the bedroom. It was snugger around his shoulders than usual. He had put on a few more pounds of muscle since he last stayed at Louis’ San Francisco apartment. 

The machine’s humming grew louder the closer he got. He sat down on the wooden stool next to the sewing station. Louis did not look away from his work. His shoulders shivered, causing his red jersey to slip lower with each tremble. Small splats of tears dripped down his chin and darkened the salmon colored fabric rushing beneath his machine’s needle. 

Harry took a cardboard box off of a shelf above the sewing machine. He crossed his ankles and scooped a handful of buttons.

Louis rubbed his wet face against his own shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Sorting.” Harry placed a pile of tiny silver buttons in a plastic cup. “Five per shirt, right?”

Louis lifted his foot off the pedal and sat back. He stared at Harry, who smiled gently and placed another pile of buttons in a cup beside the first. Louis did not move or speak. His eyes were red around the edges, tracks of smeared tears shimmering on his skin. 

“Lou,” Harry murmured, cradling his cheek. Louis leaned into him with his entire body, as if exhaustion hit him all at once. He melted sideways, curling his legs up and cuddling against Harry. Harry held him tightly, burying his nose in Louis’ hair. He took a few deep breaths, rubbing his back. “Wanna watch ‘Mulan’ again?” 

Louis shook his head and burrowed deeper into his arms. “No, thanks.”

“What’s up? Besides, well...you know. Everything.”

“I think it just hit me. All this shit just hit me.” Louis swallowed thickly and closed his eyes as Harry stroked the back of his hair. “All the scary, unfair, sad, sick, horrific shit just hit me. About this country. About people. More and more appointments being made that just hammer home how fucked it all is. It’s like something out of a horror movie, a nightmare, but with no happy ending in sight.”

“I’m glad you’re crying.”

Louis tilted his head with furious, rumpled outrage. “Glad?”

“You needed to get it out.” Harry pushed Louis’ hair off his sweaty face. “Since Election Day, we’ve been cycling between straight up anger bangs and extreme soft stuff. Soft stuff when you’re so quiet that you let me do weird shit to your ankles and ears and nips and all those fun spots, all without kicking me away and pretending that stuff hasn’t gotten you going every damn day for the last year.”

Louis barked a laugh as he looked at the ceiling. Harry pulled the neckline of Louis’ jersey lower and kissed the threaded needle inked on the back of his shoulder.

“Thanksgiving is days away and I’m dreading having to listen to my dad gloat,” Louis continued, his breathing still shaky and his voice still thick. “I’m dreading it.”

“He won’t gloat.”

“He will.”

“He has a gay son who he loves.”

Louis arched his brows. “He has a sign on his lawn that would say otherwise.”

Harry’s mouth twitched downwards. “Yeah, that…” He shook his head and scratched the back of his head. “I dunno, baby. I don’t think that means he doesn’t love you. He called me to check on you the day after Election Day. He knows. He knows it’s fucked up.”

“Then why did he vote the way he voted?” Louis snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, fury seeping into his curious pose. “If he knows it’s fucked up, why did he vote that way? Why did he put his voice behind a platform so fundamentally wrong, a platform constructed to appeal to the ugliest sect of society?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I–” Harry swayed his head side to side. “I know why. Kind of.” He bit the corner of his lips, worrying the skin for a moment as Louis studied him. “I mean, I lived in Texas my whole life. Not that everyone who lives in Texas is...you know. A supporter of him. But I know how people think. I know how I used to think.”

“You never tried to hurt anyone with your beliefs.”

“Well, yeah,” Harry laughed gently. “Because I didn’t really have beliefs. I didn’t have to. Not until you kind of guided me on my little journey. I didn’t see the point of believing in much because everything was Easy Street for me. And that’s not to say I didn’t say or do some shitty things in my time. I did.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s sad, and kinda weird, but I think...I…” Harry frowned as he thought for a beat. “I dunno how to word it, but I think the long term results of all this is probably going to have a similar effect on certain Americans, even if they think that will never happen. Their eyes will be opened, eventually. It’s just sad that others will have to suffer for that big reveal.”

“It is sad.” Louis’ breath hiccupped and his shoulders jumped. “I just–I just feel, like, a-actual pain in the center of my chest. I feel ill when I think of it. When I think of everything.” He dug his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry rubbed between his shoulder blades, his other arm snug around his lower back. Tears stung Louis’ eyes, dampening the gray cotton of his tee, and he sucked in another shaking breath. He gripped Harry’s shirt, scrunching the material enough to see the beginning of his spool of thread tattoo. “I feel so bad for Z-Zayn. His family is terrified, with good reason. The rise of hate crimes is staggering.”

Harry tightened his hold. “I know.”

“And I–I hate that my mom and sisters don’t get to have a woman president,” Louis said into his shoulder. He tried to sit up, but Harry held him in place. His words tumbled out faster, his back jutting roughly each time he sucked in a breath. “I know there will never be a p-perfect candidate and every candidate has their faults, but they were so fucking excited.” He inhaled loudly through his nose, wiping the back of his wrist on the damp skin above his top lip. “It’s like a sick fucking joke. It feels like a death.” 

“Just because it didn’t work out this time, that doesn’t mean it’ll never happen.” Harry pressed his lips to Louis’ temple. “It will.”

Louis listened to Harry’s voice, warm and gentle and rumbling. Vibrations buzzed in his skull, Harry’s lips lightly tickling the thin skin of his temple each time he spoke. He listened to Harry talk about everything and anything, day in and day out, but his voice was usually associated with happiness. Harry’s words were hopeful and soothing and said with such confidence. A glimmer of peace flickered within the center of his body, but that split-second of relief only brought another surge of tears, uncontrollable and violent, his face back to being pressed into Harry’s cotton-scented shoulder.

Harry murmured, “Aw, babe,” and rubbed circles in the center of his back. “Shhh, babe, shhh.” Louis bolted upright, Harry adding, “Not, like, ‘Shh, I don’t want to hear your views.’ I meant it as a sort of, ‘Shhh, I love you and I want you to feel better. Because I love you.’”

Louis cackled as he wilted against him, covering his face with his hands. “God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Harry dropped a handful of light kisses to the crown of his head. “I know it’s a scary time.”

“I know, I’m just--” Louis wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, then settled into a more comfortable position tucked against Harry’s side. “I’m sorry that you’ve been dealing with the brunt of my anger towards something that’s not your fault. I’m sorry you feel the need to give an explanation for trying to comfort me. I’m just so tired. I’m so tired and the real fight, the real horror, hasn’t even started yet.”

Harry smoothed his hand over Louis’ shoulder and pulled him closer. They rocked together, side to side, the wooden stools squeaking quietly beneath them.

“Remember when we…” Harry licked his lips, thumbing Louis’ lowest rib though his shirt. “Remember last Thanksgiving?”

Louis sighed and slid his hand up the back of Harry’s tee, rubbing the warm skin of his lower back. “What about it?”

“Remember the days before it?”

 

Louis looked up at him without lifting his head, his hand motionless. “Uh, yeah. The Voldemort Period of our relationship.”

“The Period Which Shall Not Be Spoken About.”

“Yeah, so,” Louis droned as he sat up straighter, “why are you bringing it up?”

“We had a big blowup between us because of me.” Harry’s eyes widened. “It was a disaster, a fuck up beyond fuck ups, all at the very start of our relationship. And it wasn’t always fun when we were trying to figure shit out. It was kinda awkward, you know? Everyone thought we’d break up. That we’d made a mistake even trying.”

“I didn’t,” Louis said quietly.

“I know that and you know that, but…” Harry’s nose crinkled as he shook his head. “You know what I mean. We had a lot of shit thrown at us at the start by, like, sports blogs and fans and other students. I think most people thought we’d never make it past the holiday weekend. And we had other issues pop up because of the Voldemort Period, but we kept going, and now we’re here. And we’re happy.” He thumbed Louis’ brow as he smiled gently. “So happy.”

Louis thought back to the days following their explosion. Thanksgiving weekend went by in a blur. It was a collection of random firsts and learning on the fly. Small things. Day to day things. Details you would only find out from spending more than twenty-four hours with another person, like that Harry always looked at tissues after blowing his nose and that Louis left dirty socks in a trail behind him throughout the day. 

After such a whirlwind of activities, coming back to school a day before most other students seemed especially jarring. The silence of campus only amplified the elephants dancing in their presence. What would the future hold?

. . .

Louis shouldered his apartment door open. Harry stepped inside holding their luggage. A canvas duffle bag nearly bursting with Tupperware containers was tucked snugly under his arm. They walked through the apartment to Louis’ room, neglecting to turn lights on as they went. Both knew Zayn would not be back until the next day.

Harry placed their bags on the floor. He took a step towards the bed then froze. He took a step backwards, clasping in his fingers in an awkward bundle in front of his belt buckle. Louis’ shadow came closer until his small hand slipped up the back of Harry’s tee. Harry sagged towards his warmth.

“Want to shower, Riggs?” Louis rested his chin on top of his shoulder. “Flights always make me feel grimey.”

Harry exhaled. He nodded and turned, Louis’ arm winding around his waist. “Shower then nap?”

“Sounds good.”

Their shower was as quiet as their journey to Louis’ apartment. They were quiet as they soaped up, quiet as they dried off, quiet as Louis handed Harry comfortable clothes without Harry having to ask, and quiet as they got into his twin bed. 

Louis laid on his back and stared at Harry. Harry flattened half on top of him, resting his cheek on Louis’ shoulder. They laid in silence as Louis stroked Harry’s hair.

“I don’t want to go back there,” Harry whispered.

Louis lightly dragged his fingertips behind Harry’s ear, trickling down the side of his neck. “You don’t have to. Ever.”

“I guess I’ll start looking for an apartment,” Harry said with a heaved sigh in his voice. He snuggled closer. “Gives us an excuse to watch more HGTV.”

“You can stay here in the meantime.”

Harry snorted. “Oh, yeah? Zayn know about this offer?”

“He does. He’s okay with it.” 

“Okay with it?” Harry propped himself up on his elbow, peering curiously down at him. “Zayn?”

“Well…” Louis started to smile as he held out the word. “He’s okay with you paying his portion of the rent and groceries from Whole Foods while you sleep here.”

“Whole Foods? He was that specific? It’d probably be cheaper for me to buy a house than feed us all from Whole Foods.”

“Oh, and he has bathroom privilege over you, plus you’re not allowed to control the TV. Ever.” Both laughed, breathy and quiet, Louis stroking Harry’s hair. “But we can talk details tomorrow when he’s back.”

Harry settled down on Louis’ chest. They stared at each other for a moment, motionless. Harry whispered, “And you?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t want it, too.”

“You really think it’s a good idea for us to be together all the time? It’d be like us living together after one date.”

“It’s not permanent. You’re getting your own place. You staying here doesn’t mean unlimited fucking and fun times. It’s me helping out my friend when he needs it. That’s all.”

“Why are you always so nice to me?”

“Because I care about you.”

Harry could feel his face involuntarily scrunch as Louis pressed their lips together, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Uneven, frantic breaths sniffled out of his nostrils, burning against Louis’ cheek. “I don’t get it,” Harry shuddered. “I don’t, baby. I don’t get why you’re so nice to me.”

Their lips slipped wetly as both tried to speak, Harry curling into a ball within Louis’ embrace. They breathed together, Louis slipping his hands up Harry’s lower back to link behind his shoulders, Harry’s feet scooting under Louis’ ankles. 

“Because,” Louis said softly, kissing him with even more softness. “Because I care about you and you’re a good person. I’m willing to be patient and try. I’ll try to help you see my way while trying to understand how you see things. Because I lo–” Harry’s mouth popped open, Louis quickly amending, “Because I care about you. I care about you. I **care** about you.”

Tears started to leak from Harry’s eyes yet again, his lower lip trembling as he said, “I care about you, too, but can I please buy us a bigger bed?” Louis started to laugh, Harry sniffling and chuckling, “I promise, I won’t try to buy your affection. I just think…” He wiggled his feet hanging off the end of the bed. “It might be helpful.” He batted his lashes. “I’m merely trying to show I care, darlin’.”

“Oh God,” Louis groaned, rolling away from him. He put his arms over his face, fighting the urge to laugh as Harry pushed his tee up and kissed his navel. “I’m a fucking goner. You turn on that ridiculous Southern gentleman routine–”

Outraged, Harry repeated, “Ridiculous!?” as he stuck his head under Louis’ shirt. He blew a raspberry on his nipple, Louis’ giggles finally ringing out in the quiet bedroom, both squirming and bouncing around on the tight twin bed. “I’ll have you know I **am** a Southern gentleman, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” Louis bucked his hips as Harry popped out of his shirt, he and Harry laughing breathily against each other’s lips. Harry struggled to grip his wrists. “Southern gentleman cry when they get eaten out in an airplane bathroom?”

Harry muttered, “We are never leaving this tiny, **ridiculous** bed,” and blew a raspberry on the arch of his neck.

. . .

“You said you would try to listen to my point of view, even after I was so horrible to you,” Harry said, thumbing the back of Louis’ neck. He massaged towards his shoulder blades and Louis moaned softly, letting his head drop forward. “You said you would be willing to try because you cared about me.”

“Yeah, because I loved you,” Louis said, his voice nasal from being bent over. “Even if I wouldn’t say it out loud until later.”

. . .

Louis peered up at the grand archway of the door he and Harry were being escorted through. They reached a lobby full of cozy furnishings in hunter green and deep brown. Before they could even say hello to the receptionist, a group of suited men came to greet them.

“Mr. Styles,” a gray-haired gentleman said, holding his hand out. “So great to see you again.”

“Mitchell, right?” Harry said with their hands clasped.

“That’s right, son. No Papa Bear today?”

“No, he said he’d rather me go it without him. He’ll advise me once I’m ready to commit. Though something tells me he’s been on the phone with Mr. Nichols all morning, gabbing away about what he thinks I need in a team.”

Mitchell chuckled gruffly. “I can definitely see that. Your daddy has quite a few friends here.” He held his arm towards an open conference room. “Right this way.”

Harry laced his fingers with Louis’ and stepped forward. After their first step, Mitchell’s features all twitched inwards, his hand rising as if to say something. Harry arched his brows, his smile never wavering. 

“Aren’t you going to welcome Mr. Tomlinson just as warmly? He has been kind enough to accompany me to every interview that I have scheduled. He’s more than knowledgeable on what I am looking for in a team fit.”

Mitchell cleared his throat and smiled, though his was not as free at Harry’s. “Yes, of course. Where are my manners? Welcome, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis nodded. “Thank you. I really like the design of your office.”

“Thank you, son.” Mitchell briefly shook his hand, then stepped to the side. “You all ready to go in? We have a hell of a spread waiting. Steaks galore. Food always make negotiations go so much smoother, don’t you think?”

Louis followed Harry into the boardroom. A couple of employees whispered to each other, their eyes on the pair, and scrambled to move a rolling office chair beside the throne-like seat designated for Harry. Harry squeezed his hand and stepped up to the chair, then held his arm out. Louis stifled a laugh, their eyes linking for one playful beat before he sat on the throne.

“You look good in that,” Harry murmured, rolling his office chair closer to the table. “Regal.”

“Thanks,” Louis chuckled quietly.

The meeting went on as Harry had told him it would. Talks from every level of staff, from coaches to administration. Plans were discussed about how much of an impact Harry would make if he joined their team. Harry’s ego was fluffed to an almost unimaginable size, Louis keeping a mental tally of how many hours he’d have to edge him later that night in their hotel room to bring him back to Earth. Dossiers were distributed, along with copies of an offer. Louis could feel that his copy was hot, as if it had been hastily printed by the receptionist mere moments before being distributed.

“Well?” Mitchell grinned across the table with a steaming white coffee cup in hand. The shiny gold of the fillings in his back teeth glimmered along with his smile. “What do you think?”

Harry smoothed his thumb over the corner of his paperwork. “This all looks just fine. A lovely offer. Very generous indeed.” The room filled with quiet, but excited, whispers, Mitchell and the rest of the board beaming happily. “I have just one amendment that I would need added for me to consider playing for your team.” Harry pinched the air, giving his best dimpled, Styles smile. “One teeny tiny amendment.”

“Name it,” Mitchell laughed gruffly. “If you couldn’t tell, we’ll do basically anything, son.” He made gun fingers with both of his hands and pointed at Harry. “You are the cornerstone of our next generation. You are the future of our franchise.”

“That’s awful kind of you to say,” Harry drawled, charm oozing from his smiling face. “To have such enthusiasm. Really, I’m honored, sir.” 

Louis huffed a hidden laugh as he flipped a page of the offer. 

“Well?” another board member asked, pen poised. “What do you need, Harry?”

Harry tugged the bottom of his suit jacket (personally hemmed by Louis) and sat up straighter. “It’s really very simple. If I agree to play for your team, I will need it in writing that you will always, one-hundred percent of the time, back me and my partner, even if my partner is a man.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Louis, specifically.”

Louis’ eyes felt as if they both widened and twitched at the same time, though he never moved from his position beside Harry. Others in the room shifted in their seats, tightness spreading over the faces of some men in the room.

Harry continued. “Any benefit a player’s wife would receive, Louis receives, even if we are not legally married. Health insurance is my main concern, along with survivors benefits on the off chance I’m killed in play.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis blurted out. 

“I told you these meetings would be fun,” Harry said, mirth in his eyes and laughter in his voice. He squeezed Louis’ hand on the table, then looked from board member to coach to executive. “Any sort of violence or slander or hatred about me being in a relationship with a man, or about Louis, will not be tolerated. The team will have to immediately squash any sort of homophobia lobbed our way, whether that’s in the locker room, the media, or fans acting like fools in the stadium. If the actions of the team do not reflect full respect and support, I will walk, and I can promise you that I will find a new team faster than you can Tweet about my departure.” Harry nodded at the stack of papers in front of him. “Simple as that. Sound good?” 

The board stared slack-jawed at him and Harry smiled, continuing, “I’ve got a bunch of interviews the next couple of weeks, so y’all let me know when you’ve revised your offer and we can set something up.” He rubbed his stomach. “Maybe we can have some more of those steaks. They were good, yeah, Lou?”

Louis blinked at the offer, then shook his head slightly and looked to Harry, who smiled at him as if they were sat in front of the television watching Jeopardy. “Uh, yeah.” Louis cleared his throat. “They...They were good.”

Both were exhausted as they walked into their hotel room later that night. Their bags were waiting for them, as was a fruit basket the size of Louis’ sewing machine.

“Damn. Are we gonna get one of these in every city?” Harry read over the attached card. “I should tell them I love those big pears and you love any fruit with chocolate on it. We’ll get Edible Arrangements galore.”

Louis toed his shoes off beside the king sized bed. “Fancy hotel, too.”

Harry flipped the card closed and smiled excitedly. “Hey, we should start collecting all the little shampoos and lotions and stuff so we can make toiletry kits for the homeless. Keep them in the car and hand them out whenever.”

“Well, well, well.” Louis padded closer. “Aren’t we the Eagle Scout?”

Harry held his hand over his heart. “Always and forever.”

Louis curled his hand around the side of Harry’s neck. He pulled him close enough to gently seal their lips, Harry humming low in his throat and gripping Louis’ ass. Louis chuckled breathily into their kisses, his socked feet landing on top of Harry’s boots. 

They moved together until the backs of Louis’ thighs hit the edge of the bed. Louis pulled away to breathe, “How long were you planning what you would say to the board about having benefits for your partner?”

Harry sucked Louis’ bottom lip, Louis tilting his head as Harry’s lips firmly massaged his own. “I, uh,” Harry chuckled breathily, “drafted what I wanted to get across, then Zayn and Liam helped me figure out how to say it in a way that made sense.”

Louis stared straight ahead, Harry dipping down to plant kisses along his jawline. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you...What did you want to get across?”

Harry stood at his full height, the heel of his hand cradling Louis’ jaw. “That I want to take care of you for the rest of our lives.” He kissed Louis’ cheekbone. “And that anything I earn, you should get, too.” He pecked his lips. “Fair is fair.”

“I love you,” Louis said with their lips still brushing. Harry started to lean forward, but stopped just short of a new kiss, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth and his entire body frozen. He stared down at Louis, his jaw shivering as they stood in silence. Louis squeezed the back of Harry’s neck as he whispered, “I love you, Harry.” His voice was softer. Sweeter.

. . .

Harry said, “When I teased you about being a Cubs fan, you told me to have faith. You believed.”

“But this isn’t a baseball game, babe.” Louis dabbed beneath his eyes, then ruffled his own hair. “You changed for the better, yeah, and you tried to be better, but we’re talking about people who don’t see themselves at fault. Ever. And will use their power to oppress anyone in their way. These are lives at stake. Families. Children. Freedom. The future.”

“But there are people like you who are trying to keep everyone informed. Trying to keep ‘em honest. Trying to help.” He held Louis’ shoulders to spin him on his stool. “We’ve gotten, like, ten Amazon Prime book deliveries this week alone.”

“I’m only trying to read more about history to strengthen my ability to fight back in our current clusterfuck.” Louis’ words whipped against Harry’s face, his body emitting an energy that was equally cross. “If we’ve already donated to organizations and attended protests and exhausted all other current resources to help, the least I can do is to be an educated source for the future.”

“See? Faith. And that fire I love. Mmm,” Harry moaned, shimmying his shoulders, “makin’ me hot.” Louis shielded his smile by ducking his face down. “Why would you be fighting if you didn’t have faith?” Harry fit his palm over Louis’ flushed cheekbone, guiding their gazes together. “The feeling when we were just celebrating a baseball win was indescribable, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis said softly, nodding. “It was the best. The most amazing feeling of pure joy I’ve ever experienced.”

“Then can you imagine what the victory parade is going to be like when it’s for more than baseball?”

. . .

“This is a historic event, ladies and gentlemen. Record numbers of fans all joining together to celebrate the long-awaited World Series victory by the Chicago Cubs. Bill Murray is one of many celebrities roaming the streets, rejoicing with the thousands and thousands of people partying like it’s 1908.” Joe Buck laughed as the camera panned over the crowd. “Speaking of celebrities in attendance, we have Seattle Seahawks star, Harry Styles, with boyfriend Louis Tomlinson. Both were present at every game of this legendary World Series. It only makes sense for them to join us today.”

The camera zoomed in on Louis and Harry. They were jumping side by side in a packed section of overjoyed fans, like two ecstatic sardines in a sea of blue. Both were cheering while wearing matching Cubs hats, scarves, and t-shirts. Louis’ hat was on correctly while Harry’s hat was backwards. 

Fans were waving flags and holding up **Fly The W** banners. A bus of players drove by and the crowd grew even more hysterical. The camera started to pan away just as Louis jumped onto Harry, their mouths colliding and Harry’s hat falling off while they kissed and cheered and laughed and spilled beer on each other, all at the same time.

. . .

Harry draped a swath of shimmery fabric on his chest. He wrinkled his nose. “Why did the ballet commission, like, a million of these barf blouses?”

Laughter bubbled from Louis as he pulled Harry close enough to land a plush, firm kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Louis kissed him again. “And I love that you called it a blouse.”

“A barf blouse.” Both smiled with their lips connected. “How many more are you going to do tonight?” Harry picked up a needle. “I can start on these, if you want.”

“Showing off your button sewing skills? You trying to get me hard?”

Harry chuckled and wrapped thread around his hand. “Nah, I’d totally be tailoring a jacket right now if that was my end game.” He reached for a scissor, but Louis held onto his wrist. Harry looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Let’s go back to bed.”

“Yeah?” Harry placed his sewing items on the table. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s go.” Louis kissed his knuckles, then pulled him to his feet. They stood with their hands clasped. “Soft stuff time.”

“Hells yes. My fave.” Harry enveloped him from behind. They walked towards the bedroom, Harry breathing deep with his nose buried in Louis’ hair. “You smell so good tonight, baby.”

“Tonight?” 

“Well, this morning, I reckon. It is almost light out.”

Louis tilted his head back, Harry’s hands smoothing to the fronts of his hips, their cheeks rubbing together. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You can even do weird stuff to my ankles.”

Harry grinned as he bit Louis’ neck. “Mmm...Hashtag: Progress.”

“Hashtag: Resist,” Louis laughed, squirming from gentle fingers digging into his sides. He tried to right them as they stumbled through his bedroom doorway. “C’mon. Bed.”

Harry licked up his neck and bumped his groin to his ass. “Emoji: Tongue. Emoji: Peach. Lots and lots of tongues and peaches. We can even put a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sX9DgavXiN4) on.”

“Emoji: Sleepy Zzz’s, you horny incarnation of the Emoji: Kissy Face. It’s late.”

“Emoji...” Harry held out the word with his lips buzzing on Louis’ ear. “All the heart colors?” He tilted his head to blink innocently, his eyes extra wide and his lips pursed forward. “Even the sparkly ones?”

Louis sighed as he smiled, exhaustion bringing a layer of softness to his face. He sat on the messy bed and gripped the bottom of Harry’s tee. Harry stepped forward, Louis’ legs wrapped tight around his hips. 

They linked their fingers as Louis flattened his stretched arms on the bed, Harry settling on top. The sleeves of Louis’ red Armadillo’s jersey slouched low on his biceps and the jersey rode up on his abs as Harry straddled him, the fabric of their comfortable clothes making a hissing sound amidst the creaking of the bed. Harry squeezed Louis’ hands as he slotted their lips together, Louis barely whispering, “Hashtag: Blessed,” into their kiss.


End file.
